Difficult Affection
by ShiningDestiel
Summary: Dean always thought he deserved to go to hell for how he felt for his brother. All these years of pretending and enduring were more than enough for him. But when a certain angel raised him from perdition Dean's hell only just started. Sam is determined to help Dean whatever it takes. Cas shares his help. In his own special way.


A/N: First of all: ASDFGHJKLhsynjkdhbsk I finally managed to do it! My first ever story published! I'm so excited and nervous and anxious and omg I'm gonna go die.

Then; I have planned a couple more chapters for the whole to be a logical story but I still don't know how much time it's needed because of duties I have to do. Meh. I'm looking forward to it.

Last but not least: English is not my native language, some parts maybe won't make any sense and if that's the case pleeease inform me, I'd love to write the story to it's perfection. I have a weird interpretation of things somethimes and even weirder ideas for fictions, thank you for having to bear me.

Enjoy.

* * *

„Dean…" He hears faintly his name being called as a heavy hand is put each on his shoulder and neck and he tries to react. "Dean…do you hear me? Dean, please open your eyes." He tries to answer that faint and familiar voice so badly. 'I hear you. I can hear your voice but please don't shake me like that. It hurts.'

Slowly and painfully he opens his eyes and sees the darkened frame of his brother's face hovering over him and looking awfully concerned at him. It's night, he guesses stupidly. But then why is it so bright behind his brother?

"Oh, thank god, you're alive."

"S-Sammy? What happened?" his voice cracks uncomfortably, he even tastes blood on his tongue, and his eyes roam over his face as he oddly just realizes the bloodstains that cover his delicate young face. He must have hurt his head badly because blood is leaking from a dark wound on his forehead and wet lines cover his cheeks as if he just cried, but why is he covered in mud? He tries to move a hand to his face and clean off an especially dirty spot on his soft cheek which he finds weirdly annoying. How can he be more concerned about the dirt than the blood running down his face? He can't control his thoughts. He just has to wipe off his cheek so bad.

"Dean, don't move. Don't move. See? I'll clean off that dirt for you. It's okay." Sammy hastily wipes his cheek clean and tries to smile, a hand still resting on Dean's neck.

"How did you kno-…"

"Dee, I'm a good boy, you said it yourself." Sammy carefully kneels in between Dean's open legs and looks him in the eyes. "I obey and do you good, and I attempt to do so for a long time." He extends the last words teasingly and moves closer to him until he breathes on Dean's lips. The atmosphere around them changes all of a sudden and there's the tension between them he sometimes experiences as uncomfortable and arousing when he's alone with him, just this time much more intense. No, feeling this way is not right. "I'll make you feel so good, Dee." He whispers, looks him in the eyes and cups his dick through the dirtied jeans, moving it steadily. It's as if he reads his mind and proves him it's all right. What is going on? That's not the Sammy he knows, doing such an inappropriate thing.

"S-Sammy, what are you doing?" He breathes in sharply but gasps at the sudden jolt of pain crossing his body by doing so. A couple ribs are probably broken along with his right leg and arm and countless bruises cover his body, regarding the fact that he totally can't move. He feels Sammy's lips caressing along his jaw, nibbling on his earlobe softly – that little part of his body which makes him turn into jelly, very much to his disadvantage – and adds pressure on his clothed cock, earning from Dean a breathy moan. "S-Sa-…" That's not Sam. It can't be. He doesn't kno-…

"Oh, I know what you have secretly been wanting the whole time, Dean. You think I'm blind?" Young Sam laughs breathily and looks amusingly at him. "No, I know everything. I just really like to tease you, Dee." He says his loved nickname with so much lust in his voice that Dean's mind almost drowns with affection. And that hand just won't stop moving. "These side glances you give me when we walk next to each other, full of desire and longing? How your eyes roam all over my body when you think I'm not paying attention to you?" he laughs jolly. "How you touch me whenever you're concerned about me and your hands linger on me for a moment or two longer? Oh Dean, I know everything. I know it all. And you know what? I was dying with anticipation and wondered 'when will you finally make the first move?' I was dying to touch you like how I am now. You just never see it." He kisses his neck a couple of times on different spots and moves on to his lips, stopping right in front of them. Dean's arousal is unbearably hard by now and throbs against Sammy's hand mercilessly, now that he's heard the confession unable to control his actions or feelings anymore, not that he could anyways. He feels like he's tied up.

"Sam. S-Stop it." He tries to at least free himself with words when he can't move but Sam isn't even listening. No, he's too caught up expressing his burning feelings and thoughts as to stop. Dean doesn't want to hear or feel all of this. He really doesn't.

"But you know you're a perv, Dee. Having feelings for your own little brother. And as much as you'd like to turn it off, you can't. And you'd never ever forgive yourself if you'd do something filthy to me. I'm your little brother and still so young! That's what you told yourself back then over and over again, didn't you?" He bends his head lightly to the side and looks at him with a straight face. "My own pervert brother had to keep his pervert brain busy with girls to not get all over his little, naïve, fragile little brother. These poor girls. But what are you gonna do about the thoughts you have now? I'm all grown up now, Dee." He sees Sam's features slowly change to the present-Sam and he smiles at Dean confidently. "Oh, Dee, I know you so well you'd be surprised." An earnest smile creeps up his face and he stops his large hand on his crotch earning a gasp from Dean. The heat he experiences tortures him and almost doubles the pain between his legs and on his body. It's almost unbearable. And what he tells him, oh, all the things he tells him! It's like he gets punched in the stomach with every new sentence. He knows, it's all wrong but it feels so damn right!

"Stop this, Sam. S-Stop, please." He desperately tries to find something in Sam's eyes that could convince him there's something real in the Sam in front of him but there's nothing he recognizes. Sam still doesn't listen. Or just doesn't care.

"Stop dreaming about the young version of me, Dean. Why dreaming of the past when you can have the present? I'm all yours, Dean." He grins slyly and adds again pressure on his crotch. He knows exactly what the actions and the talk do to Dean, so he moves his fingers over the tip of his crotch and massage him to his release, his voice as sweet as honey. "Take me, Dee." These three words are barely a breathing on his lips but they're enough to bring Dean over the edge of ecstasy once and for all, the wave of lust hitting him hard. He pants heavily and closes his eyes instinctively, ignoring every pain. How much he hates himself.

Before he has the chance to sort his thoughts and press his lips against Sam's out of need and longing the surroundings change drastically and he sees his brother being chained on a dirty wall by invisible hands, around them tall blood smeared walls with chains hanging ankle and head-level. The anxiety is doubled as sulfur creeps up his nose. They're in hell.

"Sam!"

He manages to scream his brother's name as he sees cuts opening the skin all over his body, earning ear-defeating screams from his little brother but he still can't move.

"Make it stop! Dean! Stop feeling this way! DEAN! It's hurting me!" the chains jolt as Sam tries to free himself almost aggressively, fear and desperation marked all over his face when he searches in Dean's eyes for help but the metal turns silent abruptly when Sam stands right in front of him all of a sudden, eyes turning pitch black. "You make me rot."

He stares at these goddamn demon eyes blankly without saying a word. He's unable to speak. Unable to move or think. Dean Winchester is trapped in his own fears and desires and sees no chance of escape. There is none, for that he's been wandering in this labyrinth for way too long.

"You destroyed me!" he feels an iron-tight grip on his throat without Sam having to touch him and he wriggles for air, never losing sight of the eyes. The pain in his chest is unbearable at this sight. He must despise him so much. "You know what? I do! You destroyed me with your dirty love, so that's why I'm going to destroy you." Sam laughs triumphing, tightens the grip farther more around his throat and Dean's vision goes black.

He's done with fighting.


End file.
